


Whether You Like it or Not

by gemmawolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hand Jobs, Love/Hate, M/M, USUK Sweethearts Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemmawolf/pseuds/gemmawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After constant arguing at school, resulting in damage to school property, the headmaster has Arthur and Alfred tied at the wrist for a whole school day to force them to become more amicable. They become much, much more amicable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whether You Like it or Not

Arthur didn't like this, 'this' being the glowing heat of his face, the frantic beat of his heart, the squeakiness of his voice whenever _he_ was around. The blond, handsome, tanned American student was a sight to behold, especially in the middle of a tackle on the field; Arthur had briefly considered joining the second of the school's American football team himself just to get in on some of that action, to be pushed around and sweated on by him... Unfortunately he had the physique of a toothpick, so that plan was out. Indeed, every opportunity to gain the other boy's attention and affections failed to produce results; he didn't even know his name when the American had been on the Christmas Council to help with the charity candy cane event, and they worked together every day on that. There was only one way to get Alfred F. Jones' attention, and that was to become his nemesis.

Easier said than done. Jones cared about grades but only to the point that the football coach deemed acceptable and let him stay on the team; he would not earn respect nor envy by flaunting his own intelligence. There was no hope in challenging him in sports, and he didn't seem to care about music, or even reputation. It was no secret that a good deal of their year group found Alfred to be obnoxious and exhausting, even Arthur agreed on the matter, but he nonetheless interrupted lessons with one-liners and pranks on substitute teachers; he was a joker, but no one particularly special as far as the popularity contest of youth was concerned. No, his one chance to make himself known was to plague his life and make him hate him.

He never claimed his tactics were perfect, but it was better than nothing.

It had been going on for more than a year now; Arthur would snidely remark on Alfred's choice of clothes, his deafening laugh, his test scores, anything. Not long after he started his scheme he got his first results, and the Defense Tackle player promptly told him to fuck off. He did nothing of the sort. By now their routine was settled. Not only that, but their sparring had escalated to breaking point - literally. Several lockers, a couple of windows, and even one very expensive vase had been destroyed and replaced during their more dramatic encounters; thus it came to a point where enough truly was enough, and they were hauled into the headmaster's office.

Mr Vargas was not one for conventional punishments. To him, detentions and letters home merely nurtured resentment in pupils, something that a happy, efficient educational institution simply couldn't work with. Instead, he hand-crafted trial so awful that most if not all astray students repented and fell back into line. They were to be no exception.

"I can't keep you apart indefinitely," he explained, standing by the window in his office since his fat cat was curled up on the chair by his desk. The glass was fitted with Venician blinds; Arthur half expected him to say, _"You come into my house on the day of my daughter's wedding,"_ just for added effect. Instead he said, "That is why you two must learn to behave around one another. Jones, hold out your right hand. Kirkland, your left."

They did as they were told, and the man presented a length of red ribbon. Arthur shared a panicked glance with Alfred; this wasn't going to end well, but nobody defied the headmaster's punishment and lived to tell the tale.

Alright, so that was exaggerating somewhat. Nobody had ever, ever, defied his punishments, but that was likely due to the prospect of having to explain to one's parents why they'd been expelled from an exclusive and expensive school.

Their arms were bound tightly together, but with enough room to twist around for adequate movement. A pair of scissors would make short work of the ribbon, but the material criss-crossed and tangled all over the place, the knots drawn tight. There would be no wriggling out of this one. The headmaster grinned at them, eyes narrowed in what was probably sadistic amusement. "You may go," he purred.

Once the heavy oak door swung shut behind them, they each let out a frustrated growl. "It's only for a day," Arthur reminded himself. He started walking toward his first class, but almost had his arm ripped out of its socket when Alfred didn't budge. "Hurry up! I've got a lesson to get to!"

The American huffed and pointed with his thumb in the opposite direction. "Yeah? Well I'm this way for first period."

"I'm an honour student, _my_ grades are more important."

"So? I need to keep up to a C in all my classes to stay on the WA Lions. It's not all about you."

Before he could errupt into, _"You arrogant, selfish, stupid bastard!"_ he was hauled down the corridor towards whatever class the American had first, and aside from kick and scream all the way there, there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.

They shared the next two periods, Biology and English. The typical seating plan had to be rearranged so that Arthur sat to Alfred's right, at the very front of the classroom. With one hand used for writing and the other being dragged to and fro over Alfred's workbook, he wasn't able to shield his face and spare himself some embarrassment at being tied to his rival/crush/whatever. _It's just for one day,_ he kept telling himself. He was so busy repeating this mantra that he didn't get much work done; that's what he blamed it on instead, not the distraction that was the football player who's perfect profile was a few inches away from him at any given point. As the day wore on he found himself glancing at that long nose, sculpted jaw and defiant flick of hair more and more often. He let him pull his left arm this way and that while writing because he didn't want him to lose his place on the team, not really, and not just because he wouldn't be able to discreetly oggle him at games anymore. He'd fallen for him once before, after all. Perhaps he just needed reminding of why he was so desperate for his attention in the first place.

Well, he certainly had his attention.

Lunch break had just finished, and they were on their way to Alfred's next class (Arthur had forfeited his lessons for the day as a thinly veiled peace offering) when the American pulled them off to the side of the corridor. Arthur groaned. "What now?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," whimpered Alfred, biting his lip, "I've been holding it all day, but I can't do it any longer. I need the bathroom."

_This isn't happening._

"C-Can't you wait?" Arthur asked, looking over to the door to the boys restroom with wide eyes. Oh God, Mr Vargas hadn't this through - or worse, he had, and knew that this was going to happen sooner or later. At the shake of Alfred's head he took a deep breath and lead them across the hall and into the now empty bathroom.

Alfred rushed to the urinals. "Don't look, ok?"

"Of course not," Arthur tutted, turning away and closing his eyes to ensure he didn't peek out of lewd curiosity. He heard a zipper being ripped open, and his arm was pulled down-

He yanked himself away from there in an instant, much to the other boy's annoyance. "What the hell Arthur, you could have ripped my cock off!"

"Then use your left hand!"

"I can't, I'm right-handed!"

"You can't hold your dick in your left hand?"

"I'm not used to it 'sall." _Oh_. Interesting. A smirk crept onto Arthur's face, one eye cracked open to catch Alfred's reflection. Ah yes, he was blushing a brilliant rose red.

He snorted. "Did you seriously just tell me how you get off?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

"Shut up, we all do it."

"Yeah but we don't brag about it and try to get another guy to touch our cock at the same time."

"That's not what happened!"

He shrugged. "Might a well have been."

Alfred growled and told him to look away again. He got on with it this time, giving Arthur's twisted mind a chance to calculate how to turn the situation to his advantage. They were alone in the restroom, tied together...

Anything could happen.

"Right, let's go," Alfred grumbled, and turned to leave, but Arthur was rooted to the spot. "What?" he asked, wariness seeping into his voice.

"Let's skip class," Arthur said.

Alfred stared at him. "You can't be serious. You? The perfect student?"

"Sure, why not?"

The American stepped closer to him. "What do you have in mind?"

Arthur leant up on his tip-toes and kissed him, flinging his free arm around the other's neck in the process. Alfred squeaked in shock, but seconds later the shorter student felt an arm wrap around his waist, their tied arms sticking out to the side uncomfortably. He messed with the hair at the back of the American's neck, sucked on his tongue, felt his hard pulse against his own wrist. It was Alfred who broke off first, gasping for air. "You're an asshole, you know that?" he said, wiping their mixed saliva from his chin.

He bit his lip. "I suppose I am," he admitted. "I just wanted you to notice me."

"Well gee, Art," Alfred laughed, and held up their joined arms, "I think I've noticed you alright."

They stood in silence for a moment. "What now?" Arthur asked, suddenly sheepish.

Alfred put his mouth to his ear. "You said something about skipping class, right?" He bit at his earlobe, causing the other boy to shudder. "Get in that cubicle."

There was no dragging or fighting as they slipped into the cubicle furthest from the door, squeezing inside to close the door. It really wasn't the nicest of atmospheres but hey, it was private. Removing clothing was off the menu with their arms bound together, and it wasn't as fun with only one hand to grasp at the other person, but soon Arthur found himself pinned against the wall and being ground into by the American's hips. Once his mind cleared itself of the lustful fog he took the initiative to undo their zippers and palm Alfred's erection through his underwear. The other boy moaned loudly and sucked at his neck in thanks, but Arthur pushed him away. "You're not the only one with a hard on, selfish."

"How about this then?" Alfred murmured; God, that husky voice sent jolts straight to Arthur's nether regions. The pleasant buzz was amplified when Alfred tugged their pants down enough to expose their members and slide them against one another.

Arthur clutched the other's shoulder and let the taller boy's movements wash over him with a gasp, tightening his grip whenever Alfred's hand moved over his head just right, wanting to voice his approval but terrified of being caught. Alfred kissed him on the cheek, the softness of the action a stark contrast from his fast pumping of their cocks. This was all too good to be true - the smell of Alfred, the bliss and thrill of a quick handjob when they should be in class, the knowledge that he didn't have to go on pretending to hate his American's guts. But the best part was how their tied hands managed to twist around and interlock fingers so that even without the ribbon, they wouldn't be letting go any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I took 'physical contact of any sort' and ran with it. I usually take more care in writing smut since I'm such a perfectionist (not 100% happy with this but meh) but, deadline. XD Now I can sleep until tomorrow's fic beckons. :') Thanks for reading!


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